The Rani raised her eyes and glanced round upon their despondent countenances. Upon not one of them could she detect a spark of hope remaining. They were as cowed animals awaiting the lash of a master, for offenses which they knew to be unpardonable, in defeat.
"Well, my Lords," she spoke calmly, "I presume that being all gathered, our business is to discuss the next place to give the enemy a battle."
"Give the enemy a battle," Tantia Topi echoed in faint-hearted accents. "What force of men, what guns, what ammunition, do we now possess with which to give battle to the Foreigners. Where even can we fly, to gain any but a temporary refuge"?
"That," returned the Rani firmly, "may be the saving of our situation. We cannot fly, therefore we must fight."
"Fight," echoed Tantia Topi gloomily. "Have we not fought already, and what has been the result? Perhaps the noble Rani," he added, with a strain of sarcasm, "will instruct us how to wage a war without men or guns."
Tantia Topi had not escaped the feeling of jealousy among certain of the leaders, as a result of the praise lavished by the troops upon the personal valor of the Rani of Jhansi.
She retorted with rising temper.
"Ah"! she cried. "Have we not had some experience how fifteen hundred men well-led can give battle to, and defeat over twenty thousand? Now it is our turn to win a victory against overwhelming odds."
"Perhaps the valiant Rani will instruct us further," the Native general suggested, controlling his anger with difficulty, at the Rani's reference to his Jhansi defeat.
The Rao Sahib interposed, fearful of an altercation between his two most skillful commanders.